Tag: gay-romance, jacob-marks, m-m, psycop, urban-fantasy, victor-bayne

I stared at the spot where [the ghost of] Warwick’s nephew had warned me never to tell anyone what I could do, and then I slid my hand into Jacob’s and pulled him close. He slipped his other arm around me and held me. I kissed him, and tried to clear my mind of everything but him and me. I looked deep into his eyes, and tried to determine if I was ready to let him in on the one thing I’d been carrying with me since my first round of psychic testing. He started back at me like a man who’d fallen for me, hard. And that part inside, the one that usually tells me to run, or to shut up, or to play along and myself invisible and hopefully whatever I’m dealing with will just go away? That part of me said, /Yes. Tell him./”I’ve got more talent than everyone on their payroll put together,” I said. Jacob squeezed me tighter. His eyes never moved from mine. “I’m so far beyond level five it’s not even funny